CHAPTER ONE
Twitch Kills
I was told to never doubt myself in space. The legacy of my father was huge enough to carry me far ahead of the other cadets. My pilot scores were low, but the Captain said it wasn't for lack of enthusiasm. Using blasters to cut through Saturn's rings was inspired, he told me. Trying to land my ship on the dark side of the planet, however, would have gotten me killed. That's off-limits according to certain domestic limitations followed without enthusiasm since the start of the Weird Invasion.
The Weird Invasion was named after the funky grooves of the aliens invading us. Our planets were taken over, starting with Neptune. The aliens themselves were responsible for the psychedelic movement on Earth. Many Earthlings had been abducted and taken to occupy outer regions of our own solar system. The aliens barely had to intervene, simply channeling dissident humans and showing them a new life on the dark side of another planet. Millions of our own people left by their own choice.
I had never taken the psychotropic chemicals and wanted to survive the war as a hero, not some freaky space hippie. I loaded up the test program, and volunteered myself to run the simulation again. The queue was five hours. I set up my dinner date reservation with the restaurant and groomed myself in the meantime. The test itself would take only ten minutes, or shorter if I lost.
The Captain called while I was shaving to give me some man advice.
"Don't break any interplanetary codes, and you'll be fine. Use the environment to your advantage: most of these hippie-hating space cadets just want twitch kills. You'll score high for low casualties and diplomatic resolutions."
I thanked him and said I needed time to shower and think his advice over. "Whatever you do, don't break any laws! Diplomacy is important with the Weird Aliens. They're experts in bureaucracy because they hate it so much. It's a real time-sink for the commanders."
In the shower, I looked at myself in the reflection of my beauty bar and thought I was doing great from all the physical training. The G-force exercises were my only weak point, but they made you shrink. Unfortunately, the more I failed the G tests, the more I had to take them. I checked again. No shrinkage yet!
Arne called when I was in the shower, and I told her to wait just a moment. She was going to meet a total warrior. I toweled off and re-initialized the phone communicator. "Hey babe."
"Hey, baby. Are you almost ready? I double-checked our appointment. Thanks for making the reservation for me."
"A man should be prepared. I even have a surprise for you," I said.
"Is it cultured Weird Alien fingers?" she asked.
"Oh man, how did you guess? You rascal."
"I'm feeling frisky tonight," she said. My attention spiked. "Maybe I can come home with you again?" Her voice was cosmic and sweet.
"Sure babe. Let me clean the place. I have to run a test, but it should take just a few minutes."
"Oh! Good luck, lover-boy," she said. I shut off the phone. Luck wasn't going to be my problem. My problem was the stupid laws that forbade sex-enhancing drugs in the dorm room.
***
We met in orbit at the station restaurant. Since we were enlistees, the ticket to space was discounted. I paid for Arne's. It was morning in the eastern hemisphere below us. I was joking when I asked if she wanted breakfast, but she didn't pick up on it.
"I thought this was a dinner date," she said. "I didn't dress for breakfast." She wore a reflective gown. I could see my face, shattered by the myriad folds covering her breasts.
"Trust me, you're dressed fine," I said. "I've ordered Weird Alien fingers and that's what we'll be eating." My own military garb was crisp, brown, and neat.
She looked at the menu, mentioning she wanted appetizers. "How did the test go?"
"A personal best," I said.
The orbit of the building was super elliptical. Jets sent it to the dark side of the
Miranda Lee, Susan Napier